


Grumplepotamus

by footsieinthegarden



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Asexual Enjolras, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 13:51:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15220535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/footsieinthegarden/pseuds/footsieinthegarden
Summary: Grantaire comes home to find Enjolras has had a bad day. He cheers him up in time for bed.





	Grumplepotamus

**Author's Note:**

> More pointless and fluffy ace!Jolras, because now that I've opened the floodgates, I can't seem to make myself stop. From Grantaire's perspective this time!
> 
> If you search for synonyms for Grumpy Gus, the first suggestion is Grumplepotamus. I'm sort of afraid it makes this sound like crack, but I can see Grantaire calling Enjolras that, even if he doesn't do it here. 
> 
>  
> 
> (One tiny mention of Enjolras taking a statement as being aphobic when it was not meant that way, he is just having a Bad Day.)

Grantaire hummed softly as he climbed the stairs to his apartment, looking forward to flopping into bed down in as few steps as humanly necessary, the only science he had ever perfected. (As long as Joly remained none the wiser that his teeth spent these nights soaking in the day’s gunk, his system was flawless.) He wasn’t sure when he had suddenly gotten so old that spending the evening listening to a poetry reading with Jehan and seeing which of them could get the baristas to crack first by ordering the most outlandish drinks possible resulted in him ready to crash before the day was even technically over, but since he knew very soon he would be sliding into bed next to Enjolras’s warmth, it didn’t seem important enough to dwell on.

Except it appeared that would not be the case, because there was far too much light coming from beneath his door, and there was no way Enjolras would’ve been able to sleep soundly while contributing to the planet’s demise like that. (Grantaire was smart enough to comment only once a month, at maximum, about how the lamp Enjolras would leave on for him was apparently magical and did no such thing.) He mostly expected to find Enjolras resting his eyes on the sofa, which he had been informed many times was completely different from sleeping, so he was somewhat surprised to find his husband fully awake and glowering at the television like it had personally offended him. 

Filled with the special energy that only being in Enjolras’s presence could generate, Grantaire had the door locked and shoes off before Enjolras could so much as say hello. Grantaire wasn’t entirely sure what greeting did end up being offered, or even if it really was a greeting, from his new perch on Enjolras’s lap. The first thing he understood after Enjolras had turned his head to the side was a very tired, “What are you doing, R?”

“I am relaxing on the couch after a night out. Is there something wrong with that?”

Enjolras let out a terribly weary sigh. “First off, I was trying to watch the TV. And I don’t remember giving you permission to sit on me. And you know perfectly well I am currently between you and the couch. I can’t even believe I have to point that out. Or that’s all the way down to third on the list.”

Grantaire slid off his husband’s lap onto the couch and touched his face gently. “Hey,” he said, and waited until Enjolras turned to look at him. “I’m sorry. I thought lap-sitting’s been on the Okay List for a long time.”

There was another sigh, but Enjolras closed his eyes and placed his hand over Grantaire’s. “It is fine. Sorry.” He swallowed and added quietly, “I didn’t mean to snap like that.”

Grantaire took the moment to kiss Enjolras’s palm, because he wasn’t above that. (And probably never would be.) “What’s turned you into such a Grumpy Gus, then? And you know you could’ve texted me. I would’ve gotten hipster artists points if I could’ve lied and told everyone I was inspired and taking notes for my next exhibition.”

“How would that make you hipster?” Enjolras asked, eyes still closed. “Isn’t that just what artists do?”

“Well, yeah, and almost all of us are hipsters, if that’s somehow escaped your notice at all the shit I’ve dragged you to. I just would’ve had to say ‘multimedia’ and ‘incorporating words, full credit given, of course,’ and we probably would’ve had rent paid for the rest of the year.” He gently poked Enjolras in the side. “And I can’t even believe that’s what you took out of that, Gloomy Gus.” 

“I mostly pay attention to you at those things, you know that. And stop calling me Gus.”

“You’re not getting out of this that easily, Acerbic Enjolras.” 

“That’s not even alliteration anymore.” 

“I know. And it tragically wouldn’t even work as the world’s shortest tautogram either. But, alas, you requested no more Guses and I must respect your wishes.” Grantaire wasn’t entirely sure what Enjolras’s eyes were doing under their lids, but they were probably rolling, and he would be disappointed if it weren’t multiple times. “I would be glad to see I’m doing slightly better at cheering you up than some comedy show, but that slightly modifier kind of kills it for me.”

“I don’t know,” Enjolras said, finally opening his eyes. “It was just one of those days. Lots of little things I could’ve ignored on their own, but just added up together, I guess. And then once I overheard someone at my seminar say I seemed a little uptight in a way I know was code for ‘needing to get laid,’ I started stewing and couldn’t seem to stop.” His eyes flashed over at the TV. “Courfeyrac recommended it and I figured it couldn’t hurt.”

Grantaire pushed gently at Enjolras’s shoulder until he lay down obligingly. “Consider yourself laid. Did it help?” Enjolras definitely rolled his eyes that time but he also smiled. He also settled in very obligingly when Grantaire pulled his legs into his lap and pushed up his pajama pants to rub them. They sat like that with only the sound of the TV for company for a little while. When Enjolras’s shoulders were no longer attached to his ears, Grantaire offered, “Not to poke the bear, but you can come off as a little uptight.” 

“Please don’t say it’s because I can be a lot uptight.”

“No need because you said it for me. Look how in-sync we are.” Enjolras gave a small smile at that, and Grantaire knew it wasn’t just because of that one little in-joke. There was more comfortable silence. “How is the show then?” 

“Oh.” Enjolras reached out to pause it, looking surprised it was still playing. “I think it’s probably good. I would try it again when I’m more in the mood.” He reached out a little shyly for Grantaire’s hand. “And maybe if you were here to laugh with me.”

Grantaire snorted. “Why yes, Your Highness, I will carry you to bed if that is your royal command.”

Enjolras sighed a sigh that was only slightly exasperated this time, and Grantaire couldn’t help but smile at the familiar comfort it brought. “That is not at all what I said, Grantaire.”

“I am well-aware, Transparent Trudy.” He suppressed a laugh as Enjolras opened his mouth to retort. “Fine, fine. How about Obvious Enjolras? That actually almost works.” 

This time Enjolras’s sigh quickly turned into a laugh. “Am I allowed to just be regular tired? Bed does sound good.” 

“Your wish is my command,” Grantaire said as he scooped up his husband. 

If it was a little harder for him to get their apartment dark and quiet in preparation for sleep, neither of them commented.


End file.
